


Someone Else Behind the Wheel

by sans_souci2



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_souci2/pseuds/sans_souci2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coda to 2.10. After he gets back from North Korea Steve is a changed person. <br/>He's not sure why but he's angry... about everything. <br/>He just wants to be left alone.<br/>When Joe gets wind of it, he enlists an old friend to help.<br/>It's not an easy fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Else Behind the Wheel

**Author's Note:**

> Posted the beginning of this a while ago but didn't feel right about it so deleted it.  
> Now, after lots of careful thinking, am posting it as a completed story.

Steve might look like hell but he’s back and that’s all that matters to Danny. After they land at Hickam and make it through all the red tape the military throws at them, he finally gets him home. Even better, with a little strong-arming he gets everyone else to leave them the hell alone. It’s about six o’clock that night when he locks the front door and collapses on the sofa next to him. “Just a request,” he says trying not to sound as unhinged as he still feels. “Please do not ever do anything like that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, D.”

“No. Don’t be sorry; don’t be anything. Just don't scare me like that again, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Why do I not believe you?”

Steve lets his head drop back against the sofa-lets his body go limp as well and answers with an exhausted but classic re-direct, “Can I just say how… God damn blown away I was to see you… to see all of you guys?”

“You can say it but let me tell you-the look on your face when I pulled that tarp up pretty much already said it loud and clear.”

It’s like he doesn’t even hear him, the way Steve keeps talking. “I was trying to figure out my options-I had no idea what my next play would be and then all of a sudden you… all of you were there.”

“Yeah well welcome to the fact we care a hell of a lot about you.”

“I still can’t believe you did what you did.”

“Well believe it. And you can make it up to us by keeping your ass out of the fire for at least a few days, okay?”

“Okay.”

Danny can’t help staring at him. There’s way too much he doesn’t know beneath all the blood and grime he’s seeing. “So,” he asks, “not to be indelicate but you look like hell. Do you want to hit the shower? Do you need me to help you?” As soon as he says it he has to fight not to let his head go to where it’s dead set on going. _So what the hell did they do to you?_

“In a little bit,” Steve answers.

 “Okay, in a little bit. You want something to eat? Something to drink?”

“Water would be good.”

“Water it is”

“Oh and maybe some Advil?”

“Sure I can get you that.”

And then all of a sudden he can’t. “God damn it Steve. I hate this so much.”

“It’s okay D, come on. I’m home. I’m okay. Relax.”

“ _Relax_ is something I might do in a month or two. Right now I’m way too worried about what you just went through. Look at you. Is there anything I need to know-including anything you think you’re going to hide from me that I’m gonna find out about anyway?”

That gets a pained chuckle out of Steve. “No Danny. There's nothing you need to know. I fucked up and Wo Fat won a round, that’s all. He didn’t do anything special, it was just your run of the mill interrogation.”

“And what did this run of the mill interrogation involve?”

Steve closes his eyes, “Don’t make me do this Danny.”

“Why not? I flew half way around the world to save your ass. I’ve been worried sick about you every day you’ve been gone. Call me crazy but I think I have the right to know.”

“Fine,” Steve says but his voice is hollow when he continues. “So he basically slapped a pair of cuffs on me, hung me up over a pipe and then treated me like a punching bag.”

“A punching bag? Nice. I hate that bastard so much. But was that all he came after you with? Just his fists? I saw the room they had you in. I’m not so sure I believe you.”

“Yes Danny that was all- just his fists.”

“So how come I saw a few heavy duty extension cords?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“Okay fine he had a…”

“A what?”

“A cattle prod.”

“A cattle prod!”

“Yeah Danny, you heard me!”

“Whoa calm down buddy; I’m just tying to make sure you don’t need to go to the ER.”

“Well let me help you with that. I _don’t_ need to go to an ER.”

There’s a scary hard edge to Steve’s voice so Danny asks quietly, “Just tell me where he used it on you. Please.”

“I don’t know, my chest… my stomach.”

“Not lower?”

“No Danny, not lower. Give it a rest would you!”

“I’m not trying to get you mad, Steve. Trust me. It’s just I had a buddy in Jersey who went undercover and got ratted out. They used a cattle prod on him; they used it on his balls and he lost one of them. Thank God he already had two kids cause it was unlikely he was going to have any more.”

Steve doesn't say anything.

“So you’re sure it wasn’t lower?”

“Yeah Danny, I’m sure.” And then sounding more exhausted then ever, “Any chance you can get me that Advil?”

______~_______

 

_Two months later…_

The Epstein home-San Francisco, California

John Epstein stared out over the water with the same unfocused expression he’d had for the past hour. On his lap, letting her ears be gently scratched was Bella, their latest rescue dog. Suddenly Bella perked up and angled herself so she could see who was coming through the sliding glass door opening behind them.

“So here you are,” Sarah Epstein says, “I was looking all over for you.” She pauses to study her husband. They’ve been together for over thirty years which means her radar is right up there with anything the military has to offer. “Are you okay honey” she asks coming to a stop behind him and laying her hands on his shoulders

“Yeah…. I’m fine.”

She kneads the knotted muscles under her hands, instantly knowing better but saying nothing. The late afternoon sun makes his wavy hair look like pure white gossamer. She’s torn between keeping her hands where they are or letting them wander upward so she can run her fingers through it. She goes with the first choice and when she feels the tension in his shoulders ease up a little she asks, “Did I hear you get a call earlier?”

“You did.”

“And who was it?”

“Joe White.”

“Oh.” That’s all she says at first, just _Oh_. But, while she stands there her mind moves quickly.

They’ve done this dance so many times.

Her heart aches for him every time.

After she runs her fingers through his wavy hair one last time and kisses the top of his head, she comes around and drops down in the chair next to him, angling it so she can see his face. “I take it he needs your help?”

“He does.” His voice is heavy with the weight of what he’s been tasked with.

She reaches over and squeezes his leg. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I guess,” he says, still staring out over the water. “It’s one of his SEALs. Not a newbie- a veteran. Two months ago the guy got back from an op where he had been held captive and treated pretty badly. Now it looks like he’s showing signs of PTSD.”

“First time?”

“First time as far as Joe knows.”

“Does he have family, children?”

“Only a sister, not nearby.”

After she mulls what she’s heard over, she asks, “Are you sure you’re up for this. You don’t have to do it. You know what these cases do to you.”

“What they do to me? How can what they do to me matter one iota when you look at what these poor guys are going through?” He shifts in his chair so he can face her, “This is a tough as nails Navy SEAL and it sounds like he’s coming unhinged. I appreciate where you’re coming from but you’re wrong, honey. I do have to do this. ”

After she takes a deep breath she asks softly, “When do you plan to leave?”

“Tonight. There’s a 7 o’clock flight that will put me in Honolulu at nine thirty local time.”

“I’m guessing you’re not going to want any supper.”

“No. I’ll eat on the plane.”

“I can go with you, you know… if you want me to.”

“Thanks but I do these gigs better solo.”

“I know-I just wanted to offer.”

“And I appreciate it. Come here you.”

For a fifty-five year old man, the way he suddenly gets up out of his chair and pulls his wife out of hers is remarkable.

“I love you so much,” he says, pulling her close.

“I love you even more,” she whispers pressing against him, loving how hard and lean he still feels.

“Come inside with me,” he says, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and giving her that special smile of his that to this day had never failed him.

“Inside with you? Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe you could help me pack?”

________~_________

_30,000 feet over the Pacific Ocean._

He’s read a hell of a lot of files on a hell of a lot of soldiers but the one John Epstein reads, as he sips a scotch on the rocks and picks at his dinner, has him shaking his head. _Why suddenly now?_ This guy has been hit with so much shit he had every right to shatter years ago.

His mother is murdered.

He gets ripped away from his remaining family and sent to military boarding school.

He goes to the Naval Academy and churns out an ass-kicking resume which includes the SEALs and Naval Intelligence.

And then the bottom falls out.

A prisoner transport he’s heading up is ambushed and the next thing he knows his father is being murdered.

_And still this guy held it together?_

After a long sip, Epstein reads on. “Holy mother of God ” he says under his breath when he reads about the murder of the Governor of Hawaii and his soon to be patient’s arrest for it.

_And then he was shived in jail?_

“Crap,” he finally says and lays the file down on the empty seat next to him. As he stares at the seatback in front of him he recalls the photos of his patient that were in the file.

_So beneath that chiseled jaw and behind those steel blue eyes is what? A poor bastard who’s finally been pushed to his limit?_

“Sir, would you like another scotch?”

“Uh. Oh no. No thank you. I’d like some water if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

As he watches the flight attendant walk away and hears the pilot announce that they’re fifteen minutes outside of Honolulu, he says the same thing to himself he says every time he starts a new case.

_Please God, give me strength._

_______~______

Honolulu International is a beehive of activity when United’s last flight from San Francisco lands. There’s no shortage of greeters with leis and limo drivers with name cards when Epstein comes off the jet way. He scans past them, looking for a familiar baldhead. When he spots Joe he picks up his pace. “Good to see you again,” he says, pumping his friend’s hand, “you're looking well.”

"I’m looking okay for an old retired guy. It’s good to see you. And hey, thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“No problem. So how’s your man doing?”

“No worse, no better.”

“How about you tell me what’s going on," Epstien asks as they hurry through the terminal.

"So McGarrett was back at work four days after his team hauled his ass out of Korea," Joe answers. "At first things seemed okay but then all too soon they didn’t.”

“How so?”

Joe stops in front of a coffe kiosk to answer that one. “Well, first of all you need to know that Steve is an in control individual. By that I mean the man never loses his cool.”

“Except now he does?”

“Yeah, you got that right. He’s flown off the handle about all kinds of things with everyone from the Governor to the poor woman who cleans Five-0’s offices. It’s like he’s a looking for an argument. One of the guys on his team, Danny Williams who’s closest to him of all of them, called me the other night and told me Steve had blown up about this console they have in their offices.”

“Console?”

“Yeah, it’s this waist high, glass topped computer console. You punch a few keys and swipe your hand across the thing and suddenly whatever you’re seeing shows up on a flat screen on the wall.”

“I’m no sure I’m following you Joe.”

“Well let me finish. Apparently Steve couldn’t get the thing to do what he wanted to. After he ranted and raved and tried a few times he took his fist to it and shattered it.”

“Holy shit. How’s his hand?”

“Williams tells me he’s not sure. Steve stormed out of the place and the next day showed up with his hand bandaged but refused to talk about it.”

“Well that doesn’t sound good, but sometimes tightly wired guys have to blow off a little steam.”

“I know that, John, but I also know Steve.”

“I’m taking there’s more?”

“Yeah.”

They’re heading out of the airport toward the parking garage. As they make their way to Joe’s jeep, he tells Epstein about how Steve’s stopped going out with his team for drinks after work, how he’s not hanging out with Danny and his daughter like he always used to. “And now out of the clear blue he’s taking a week off-not to go anywhere or do anything, just to _chill out_ he says. “I’m telling you, knowing Steve the way I do, I’m worried.”

“I hear you.” Epstein says as he throws his bag into the back and climbs into the jeep. “And I trust your instincts. How do you think I can best approach him?”

“Good question. I told him a friend of mine was coming to visit this week and I wanted to bring him by. He agreed-make that he just shrugged. All I can come up with is getting you in front of him and hoping you can work your magic.”

“Not asking for much of me are you, Joe?”

“Just the opposite, and trust me I know it but I’m at a loss. I have no idea what to do for him.”

“Not to worry. Like I said, I’ll do my best.”

_______________~_____________

The first thing Epstein notices about McGarrett is how remarkably handsome he is.

Even more handsome than his photos.

Granted he’s gaunt and pale but the fact is the man could grace a GQ cover if he ever wanted to.

The second thing he notices is his uneasiness. The man looks incredibly, almost unbearably uncomfortable in his own skin.

“Steve, this is my friend John Epstein,” Joe says when Steve opens the front door. “He’s the one I told you about-the guy who I’d really like you to talk to.”

“No offense Joe, but I don’t really feel like talking to anyone.”

“I know that Steve but I wish you’d reconsider,” Joe says as he steps closer. “You haven’t been yourself lately. You know it and I know it. John’s spent most of his career helping men like you, men who’ve served and are suddenly feeling unhinged.”

Looking down at his feet, Steve doesn’t answer right away. For a few seconds the only sound is the plaintive call of a myna bird perched in the vine-covered archway over the front gate.

“Steve,” John ventures. “I’ve worked with Green Berets and Army Rangers and plenty of Navy SEALs who’ve gone through what you’re going through. I’ve helped them and I can help you if you let me. I just want to sit and talk with you-twenty minutes-tops that’s all. If after that you don’t want me to come back, I won’t. Can you give me that? Just twenty minutes?”

Steve doesn’t look up or answer. After a deep he goes back in the house. A few feet into the foyer he pauses and says softly, “I’ll be out on the lanai.”

Joe and John exchange a surprised glance. After Joe says he’ll wait in the car, John goes inside.

_________~_________

Twenty-three minutes later the passenger door opens and John drops down into the seat next to Joe.

“Well?” Joe asks.

“He’s agreed to see me again tomorrow.”

“He did?  That’s great. Good work John! For a while there I thought he wasn’t going to let you in at all.”

“Well don’t be too happy too soon.”

“Why, what do you think is going on?”

“It’s obviously post traumatic stress but I don’t know how bad it is. One good thing-he did agree to try some medication. Can you go to a pharmacy and get a few scripts filled? I told him you would drop the meds off –that you’d leave them on his front stoop later this afternoon.”

“Of course. And what are you going to be up to in the meantime?”

“I need to do some homework on our boy-how can I get access to the details of his SEALs ops? “

“Ask and you shall receive. I can make a few calls and get you connected with the folks at Coronado. All of SEAL Team Five’s files are archived there.”

“Great. I appreciate it.”

______~_______

 

_The next day-the Mcgarrett Residence_

Steve had told Epstein to let himself in when he came back, that he’d be waiting for him out on the lanai. The request didn’t surprise John. Simple acts of everyday life like answering a doorbell and greeting a guest took monumental effort and felt all uphill for anyone dealing with PTSD. As he made his way down the hallway toward the back of the house he noted the state of disarray the house was in. A sweatshirt was draped across the back of a sofa strewn with newspapers; the sink was full of glasses- no plates.

Not Navy ship shape for sure.

“Steve, it’s me, John,” he called out as he opened the back door.

“Yeah, come on out,” Steve answered, continuing to gaze out over the water.

“Want anything from inside before I sit down?” John asked, “Water? Juice?”

“No, I’m good.”

John noticed Steve had on different sweat pants but the same t-shirt as yesterday. It was a little more rumpled but not soiled. After he sat down he took a deep breath and stared out over the water the way Steve was. After a minute or so he broke the silence, “Did you sleep last night?”

“Yeah. I did.”

Steve sounds surprised by the fact.

“Good, I’m glad. Sleep deprivation only makes what you’re going through worse. The medication I sent over doesn’t tend to have much residual effect-are you finding that to be the case?”

“Yeah, I pretty much don’t feel anything today.”

“I’m glad. Did you take the other medication?”

“No. I don’t think I need it. Now that I can get some sleep I should be fine.”

“Okay but hang on to it- just in case.”

Steve shrugs and says nothing.

“I thought maybe we’d pick up where we left off yesterday-you were telling me something felt wrong almost as soon as you got back from North Korea?”

“Yeah. I mean nothing really dramatic I just felt edgy; I wanted to be left alone.”

“What kind of shape were you in physically?”

“I was pretty beat up but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I’m guessing your team was pretty worried about you?”

“As in they wouldn’t leave me alone. In fact the more I pulled away the more they bombarded me with invitations and unannounced visits. Danny, my partner, and probably my best friend, was the worst. I didn’t want to but I finally lost it with him.”

“How so?”

“He just wouldn’t stop bugging me. It would start the minute I showed up at work. He wanted to know how I slept. He wanted to make dinner for me. I could see and hear how worried he was and I hated it.”

“What did you do?”

“One day I just flew off the handle. We were in the bull pit at 5-0, just the two of us and he was needling me about getting some help; he had a phone number for a help line. I kept telling himto drop it but he wouldn't. All of a sudden I was screaming at him. I mean flat out at the top of my lungs screaming for him to leave me the hell alone.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He just stood there looking… shocked-and… hurt. I hated myself for putting that look on his face but I couldn’t stop.”

“I understand. Go on.”

Steve continues grimly, “Sometimes it feels like I’m a totally different person.”

And then, so softly that Epstein has to strain to hear him he continues, “I don’t even recognize myself when I go off the way I did with Danny.”

“I hear you Steve and you’re not alone. Time and again I hear the same thing from men like you, brave, decorated men who tell me they feel like someone else has taken over their lives. It’s the insidious way PTSD works.”

Steve rears back looking insulted. “Post traumatic stress? Come on, are you kidding? Granted North Korea was a pretty ugly scene but I was only there for _two days_. I hardly think that’s long enough to trigger PTSD.”

“Oddly enough sometimes the trigger can be as short as a five minute event.”

Steve looks at John like he’s deranged.

“I know, I know. It sounds far fetched but the mind is incredibly complicated. It can take insult upon insult for years without showing any damage and then just one brief event for some inexplicable reason destroys it’s equilibrium.”

Steve still says nothing.

 “I read your file, Steve, I know what happened in North Korea- the way you were interrogated with a cattle prod. It wasn’t the first time was it?”

“It was no big deal.”

“The first time or this time?”

“Both.”

“But you were in the hospital for two weeks after the first time.”

“They were being cautious, I was fine after a few days.”

“Are you having any flashbacks?”

“To what?”

“To either time?”

“If you’re asking if I remember them? Yeah I remember.”

“Not just remember, I’m asking if it ever suddenly feels like you’re back there-like it’s happening again? Some men are triggered by, say, a certain smell. Sounds can be powerful triggers too. A car backfiring or a clap of thunder can drop a man to his knees.”

Steve looks insulted again, “What you’re describing sounds like heavy duty mental illness-I might be messed up but I’m not there, trust me, I’m not.”

“You’re right about the heavy duty part-PTSD is a wicked illness. Without treatment it can become crippling. I’ve had to hospitalize men as strong as you when it hits them. But with treatment this thing can be turned around-I swear it can.”

Steve is listening.

And thinking.

After a deep breath he speaks. His voice is distant and removed like he’s the messenger and not the subject. “The first time it happened was about a week after I got back. We were interrogating a suspect. He was a low life but we knew he had some quality intel on a guy we’d been going after for months. Chin took the lead; I stayed in the background. Chin never touched the guy-he just got up in his face and got loud but…”

“What happened Steve?”

Steve shakes his head and frowns like he’s seeing something repulsive, “Chin…for a second Chin looked like Wo Fat. All of a sudden it was like I was back there and Wo Fat was screaming at me. I felt sick-I had to get out of there. When Chin found me in the men’s room I had just puked..  I told him something I ate didn’t agree with me.”

“That must have been rough.”

“Not rough. Not really. More embarrassing than anything.”

Epstein shrugs. “Okay, embarrassing.  Did anything like that ever happen again?”

Steve takes a deep breath. His eyes go out of focus. “Just last week we caught a case-a DB in a warehouse. The poor bastard had been strung up by his arms; his feet dangling about a foot off the ground. Someone had gone after him with an acetylene torch. There was burnt, charred skin all over his chest…”

“I’m listening. Go on.”

“That time it was… it was the smell that did me in. It was like I was back there. Sometimes Wo Fat held the prod against me for so long my skin burned. When it did, there would be this little wisp of white smoke that smelled so damn awful.”

Suddenly a shudder runs through Steve and he cradles his face in his hands, “God… I’m so… fucked up.”

“No Steve. You’re not!” John reaches over and lays his hand on his back, gripping him firmly, the same way he’s gripped so many other brave men. “You are not fucked up,” he says adamantly. “You survived painful, inhuman treatment. Repeatedly. Right now your mind is trying to work its way through those experiences. You are every bit the man, the soldier, the officer you have always been.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s voice has that scary edge to it again. “So why is it I can’t sleep most nights-at least not without those pills you sent over. Why is it I blow up all the time?” He locks eyes with Epstein-his own glistening with tears and at the same time filled with anger. “I’m telling you, I’m a damn mess. I’ve never been like this before!”

Not really rubbing his back, just keeping his hand where it is, Epstein speaks softly, choosing his words carefully. “I hear you Steve. You feel like hell right now-like you’ve lost control. But you won’t feel like this forever-I swear to you, you won’t. I’ve treated men like you who all of a sudden felt like they were falling off the face of the earth and I can help you, I swear I can. You’ve just got to be willing to work with me.”

“I... I am. I want this to be over with.”

_______~________

Sarah Epstein answers her phone the instant it vibrates, “Hey,” she says forcing herself to smile even though no one can see her. “I was wondering if I was going to hear from you, tonight.”

“Well you can stop wondering.”

“Okay I will. So it’s very nice to hear your sultry voice Dr. Epstein.”

“Sultry? That’s a new one.”

“Must be the tropical air working it’s magic on your windpipes.”

“Must be.”

“So how are you doing honey?”

“I’m doing fine-I just wish I could say the same for my patient.”

 “Have you made any headway.”

“A little, it’s just damn slow going.”

“Is he a threat to himself?”

“Whoa, so I guess having a psychiatric nurse for a wife means we cut right to the chase.”

“I’m just asking.”

“I know. The answer is no. I don’t think so.

“But?”

“But he’s so blown away by how unhinged he feels. Up until now the guy has been 110 percent in control of himself. Always.

“And now it’s like someone’s taken over the reins?”

“Exactly how he describes it.”

“What kind of guy is he, John?”

“Typical Navy SEAL. Hard charger, high achiever.  Smart as all get out but with a load of personal baggage.”

“Ouch. That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not. But I’ve got a feeling about this guy.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know. Despite how little progress we’ve made so far, I feel like he’s going to pull through this-like he’s going to be okay.”

“Well if anyone on this earth can help him do that it’s you.”

“Thank you, Sarah. You do know how much I appreciate my beautiful, constant cheerleader, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I kinda do.”

Both of them are quiet until John asks. ”So how’s Miss Bella doing?”

“The beautiful Miss Bella is currently curled up in my lap and apparently dreaming that she’s closing in on some amazing prey.”

“She making those little noises?”

“She is.”

“And her paws are twitching?’

“Like crazy.”

“I miss you honey.”

“I miss you too.”

___~___

 “But Daddy, why _can’t_ we go see Uncle Steve?”

“It’s like I told you Grace, Uncle Steve is…. well he’s not feeling all that good.”

“But wouldn’t it make him feel better-to see us?”

“Come here baby.”

Danny hugs Grace hard. He tries to tell her with the strength of his embrace that he understands how much this hurts-how much it doesn’t make sense. “So here’s the thing. Uncle Steve is going through a tough time.”

“Is he sick?”

“No not sick like you’re thinking.  A different kind of sick.”

“What kind?”

“Well you know how he fought a lot of bad guys when he was in the Navy?”

“Yeah?”

“Well when you have a tough job like that some times you just need to be alone all by yourself to forget about the bad things you’ve seen.”

“That’s why Uncle Steve doesn’t want to be with us?”

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with us baby, it’s that he’s worried he’ll upset us. He’s … he’s not himself.”

Grace shakes her head; her eyes threaten to spill over.

 It kills Danny to see his little girl look the way she does. “Come here, Monkey,” he says, dropping down on one knee. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to see just you. How about we make some of those Rice Krispy things and I’ll drive you over to Steve’s and you give them to him?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

____~____

 

Danny goes over the plan in the car on the way to Steve’s.

Grace doesn’t understand why there even needs to _be_ a plan but she listens intently, both hands firmly gripping the foiled covered pyrex dish in her lap.

“So I’ll let you out at the little arch thingy-“

“You mean Steve’s gate?”

“Yeah fine, Steve’s gate. Then I’ll drive away-just a few yards, far enough so Steve can’t see my car but close enough so I can see you.”

“And I go up to the front door and knock and make sure to yell, ‘Uncle Steve.’ ”

“That’s right. The calling out part is important-if he doesn’t hear your voice he might not come to the door.”

Grace frowns but says, “Okay.”

“So if Steve does answer the door, you hug him and tell him you’ve missed him and give him those treats.”

“Can I go in?”

“If he asks you in, sure. But first thing he’s gonna ask, I guarantee, is how you got there.”

“What do I say?”

“You tell him the truth, that I dropped you off and I’m coming back for you in a minute.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you come back in a minute? What if he asks me in, can’t I stay longer than a minute?”

“Lets not get ahead of ourselves. Chances are he’s not going to want company. But don’t let that upset you. Just seeing you is going to be good medicine for him. So are those treats in that pan. If he does ask you in, go along with it. If things are good; if he seems happy, ask him if you can call me and have me pick you up a little later. Look monkey-here’s Steve’s place coming up now. So are you good with the plan?”

“I’m good,” Grace answers as she undoes her seat belt. Hand on the door; before she opens it, she turns to Danny, “And Danno?”

“What baby?”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to be fine and so is Uncle Steve.”

He watches her climb out of the car and walk confidently toward Steve’s front door.

_When did his little girl turn into such a remarkable young lady?_

___________~____________

 “Grace?”

“Hi Uncle Steve, I made you these.”

She holds the pan out toward him. “They’re Rice Krispy Treats!”

“Wh…why thank you but…” Steve scans the empty street in front of his house. “How did you get here?”

“Danno dropped me off. He said he’d be back in a few minutes to pick me up.”

When Steve nods but says nothing, she continues, “Daddy told me you don’t feel so good?”

“Come’ere you,” he murmurs dropping down on one knee and hugging her tight up against him. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Really a lot.”

He leans back so he can look at her, “You have? Really a lot?”

“Uh huh. It’s been hard not being able to see you. I have a history project about World War II that I wanted you to help me with and I really want to go surfing again and I have a turtle I want to show you. He’s an Asian box turtle and his name is Benjamin.” She stops. Her eyes are wide and worried and about to spill over.

“Aww sweetie. I’m so sorry I haven’t been around.”

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just want you to feel better so we can do things together again.”

“That’s exactly what I want too.” He straightens up. “How about you come in and we get some milk and try out theses Rice Krispy Treats?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure.”

“Okay, but I better call Daddy and tell him not to come right away.”

“No. How about you call Danno and tell him to come right away but to come on in. If I remember right he likes these things almost as much as I do.”

“You mean it?”

“Go ahead call him.”

______~_______

_A week ago, on the lanai at Steve’s place,_

“I thought we might talk a little bit about why what happened in North Korea was different from the other times you were forcibly interrogated.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Okay it wasn’t.”

John waited for his question to be given more consideration,, studying his thumbnail carefully,  hoping in his heart that his patient was finally ready.

It had been an uphill battle ever since they started.

“So what do you want me to say?”

“There’s no specific answer I’m looking for Steve. I’m just asking you to go back to that room in your mind-to picture Wo Fat coming at you-and to try to figure out  what it was about that experience that caused you to feel as bad as you’ve been feeling.”

“I’ve already told you about hundred times I don’t know.”

“Okay. You don’t know.  How about we try to figure it out together-would you be willing to hash it over again with me?”

“I told you weeks ago that I was willing to-make that I wanted to work with you because I want to stop feeling the way I do, so yeah sure-let’s hash it over again but I’m telling you, there was nothing different about what Wo Fat did to me. I’ve been tortured before; hell I've been trained to survive torture. Wo-Fat didn't do anything I haven't been through before.”

“I hear you,” Epstein answers. “But becasue of what you're going through now my hypothesis is that there was something unique about what happened in North Korea-something that made the experience haunt you.”

Steve mimics his psychiatrist and looks down at his hands.

He hates this so much but not as much as he hates feeling like someone else is behind the wheel.

He closes his eyes and lets his head rest against his chair.

He goes back.

He smells the stink of his sweat and blood and piss.

He feels the pain-in his ribs and his jaw and his gut.

He listens to himself scream, ‘I don’t know!’ and hears Wo Fat ask it again, 'Who is Shelburne?'

And then it hits him.

Like the enormous elephant in the middle of the room it hits him.

“I… I was never there…. before,” he stammers.

“What do mean?”

“I had this thing - I could disappear whenever it got really bad.”

“Tell me more about that.”

“There’s a term for it- I can’t think of it right now-I would go to someplace in my mind- someplace safe where no one was hurting me. I could take a shit load of abuse and feel very little of it. I don’t know how I got to be so good at doing it but I did. “

“Which explains how you survived the kind of abuse that landed you in a hospital for two weeks?”

“I guess so.”

“And in Korea, with Wo Fat, it was different?”

Steve drops his gaze back to his hands and after a second whispers, “Yeah it was different.”

“You couldn’t disassociate?”

“That’s the term and no, I couldn’t.”

“So you felt everything. You heard everything?”

Shaking his head, Steve holds his breath and doesn’t’ answer.

“Talk to me Steve. What was it like?”

He can barely get the words out. Tears spill down his cheeks. “What it was like? You want to know what it was like? It was like hell.  I kept trying to picture  the white billowy sheet coming down between me and Wo Fat-the sheet I always could picture when bastards like him came after me.”

“But?”

“But I couldn't. He was right there-up in my face with his fist; in my gut with that prod and I… I couldn’t get away.”

“This is important, Steve. Fight for it Steve. Fight for the answer. Why do you think your defense mechanisms didn't work this time. “

Eyes closed, fingers gripping his knees Steve takes a deep, stuttered breath and says “Because it was personal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was dying to know the answer to the questions Wo Fat was asking me. Who was Shelburne? Where was Shelburen? Christ! THose were the questions that were front and center on my radar screen. He thought I knew the answers. I thought he knew the answers. It messed up my mind big time that neither of us did.  I couldn’t dissociate- I couldn’t do anything but be there and feel every single thing the bastard did to me.”

“Okay Steve, that’s good. You just nailed it.”

“What?” Steve blurts out, rearing back with a pained grimace.

“You had incredible defense mechanisms whenever you were tortured in the past. It was like it never happened to you. It was like the shocks and punches and needles were going into someone else’s body… until this time.”

“And that’s why I’m messed up?”

“I think it is.”

“So what do we do about it?”

“We talk.”

“We talk?

“Yes. It won’t be pleasant but we’re going to talk about exactly what Wo Fat did and exactly how it felt until we difuse it. We're going to talk about went down in Korea until we break it's grip on you.”

“God I hate this.”

“I know you do. I would hate it too if I were in your shoes but you have to believe me. It's your ticket to getting your old self back.”

_____~_____

_Present day-_

After they put a major dent in the pan of Rice Krispy Treats, Grace asks Steve if they can go for a walk on his beach. He’s putting the milk away so his back is to them; which means he doesn’t see the frown Danny shoots at Grace. It also means Danny can’t see his face and has no idea how he’s going to react.

“A walk?” Steve says hesitantly.

“Yeah, just to the jetty and back?”

“Uh… well I-”

“It’s okay Steve. We don’t have to. Grace and I better be getting back anyway.”

“No. No it’s okay,” Steve says glancing at Danny and then at his watch. “I just need to take something before we go.”

Danny and Grace watch him silently as he scans the labels on the three pill bottles lined up on his kitchen counter. After he chooses one and shakes out a pill, he washes it down with what’s left of his milk.

“Does that medicine help you feel better?” Grace asks.

Not missing a beat, “Yeah it does.”

“So Joe says your doc is really impressed by how much progress you're making.” Danny says.

“Yeah, I'm getting there,” is Steve’s disinterested reply as he rinses out their glasses and puts them in the dishwasher. “But who wants to talk about that when there are shells to be collected?”

“Yeah! Let’s go.” squeals Grace, already rummaging in the pantry for a plastic bag to hold her shells. “Come on-last one out is a rotton egg!”

Steve and Danny let her run ahead; both of them smiling. While he waits for Danny to take off his shoes and sock he sighs and says, “Man I’ve really missed her,” Steve says.

“Let me tell you the feeling is mutual. I hope you don’t mind me springing her on you like this; she just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Hmm, sounds like someone else I know.”

“Yeah, yeah, so we Williams are a bit stubborn. Nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re right Danny; I’m glad she dragged you over here.”

"You are? Really?"

“Yeah really.”

They start down the beach. “You uh… you seem good?” Danny ventures.

“I feel good, make that better. I feel a lot better than I did.”

“So was it the medicine that turned things around for you?”

“That and working with John.”

“Thank God for him, right?”

“Yeah except I hated every session with him and will hate every one to come.”

Danny snorts, “I hear you. Ditto for me and the year of counseling it took to get me back on my feet after Rachel walked out.”

Steve glances over at him as they walk and raises an eyebrow to ask in a very serious, therapist-like voice, “So how does that make you feel?”

Danny laughs hard, “Yeah. Right? Fuck.How many times do they gotta ask that?  The answer is, ‘Like shit, Sherlock'. Why else would any guy ever agree to sit on a couch for an hour and pour his heart out. here for God’s sake."

“Yeah but it’s funny. I mean the medicine helped but it wasn’t until I hashed out some pretty ugly details with John  that the weight started to lift.  Don’t ask me why dissecting what you’d rather forget, helps, but it does.”

“I hear you and that’s pretty much the way it was for me. My shrink made me hash over what it felt like to have Rachel leave me until I could finally do it without breaking down.”

“It was a real picnic wasn’t it?”

“Oh man, a day at the zoo for sure.”

“Look Uncle Steve! Look Daddy! Isn’t this a conch?”

They both bend down to examine Grace’s discovery. Steve turns the wet shell over in his hand and then gives it back to her, “Yep. It’s a really small one but it’s definitely a conch.”

“I bet I find more, there’s a ton of shells by the jetty.”

“Okay but no climbing on the jetty, Grace.”

“Okay Danno!” she yells, already racing away.

They stand and watch her run off. The silence between them is comfortable, the wind off the water and warm sun on their faces feel good.

Danny is the first to break the silence, “I uh, I don’t want to say the wrong thing or anything but I just want to tell you how sorry I am that you been going through such a tough time and that I couldn’t really do anything to help you.”

“It’s okay D. I’m the one who should be sorry. I treated you badly; I knew I was doing it but I just couldn’t stop myself.”

“Forget it. It wasn't your fault.”

“Well no matter what. I'm sorry. For everything.”

“Apology accepted. Maybe for your penance you could treat me to a cold beer?”

“I’d be glad to.”

“And maybe have one yourself?”

Steve shakes his head, “Not yet. Not while I’m on the meds.”

“Oh. Well then hell, I don’t want one either. Heck who needs beer when you got what we got?” Danny gestures toward Grace and the sparkling water behind her and then like it’s the most natural thing to do, rests his arm across Steve’s shoulders. “I don’t know about you but I got everything I need right here.”

Steve reciprocates Danny's gesture, draping his arm around him and smiling through suddenly moist eyes. “I do too, Danny," he says " I do too.”

____fin_____

 

**Author's Note:**

> PTSD is an agonizing condition  
> .  
> I've come in contact with servicemen suffering from it and their pain is heartbreaking. At the same time, because of their illness, they lash out irrationally and make it hard to know what to say or do.
> 
> Any soldier, even one as strong as Steve McGarret's character can be hit by it and the effects are devastating.
> 
> I hope this story does no disservice to the brave men and women who are dealing with this crippling condition. Every single one of them deserves our support and prayers.


End file.
